Poem Photo.tiff

God made August a harvest friend,

Relieved will be when it rounds the bend,

Waves of heat leave creek beds dry,

Toss pollen at the passerby.

Laying low our bird dogs wait,

For Autumn to open its chilly gate.

Trees slump their shoulders against the heat,

Paths to hot for tender feet.

A time of spit-baths and afternoon naps,

Welcoming each loud thunder clap.

This month shall fade giving September room,

To chill the face of a harvest moon.

I'll remember you on August days,

headed for school and separate ways.

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